


Apparition

by tokii



Series: 壊れた方 [23]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokii/pseuds/tokii
Summary: Jason runs into Nicks on the anniversary of Joker's disappearance.Tag: Orange (Caution)
Series: 壊れた方 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542805





	Apparition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophisthoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophisthoe/gifts).

Apparition

Jason’s sitting at the bar, old stool straining beneath his moderate build. Five bucks for a bottle of whisky in the Gotham Old District buys you that kind of furnishing. Nicks is always saying that nothing should be owned that doesn’t have a touch of old-fashioned character. It might just be that she’s cheap… or overly sentimental. But it’s the only bar open this side of the river on this particular day. And it keeps good company.

Nicks whirls his white streak around a thin finger, leaning over the counter. “I never asked,” she whispers, lips playfully pursed. “How’d you get the streak?”

“It’s genetic,” Jason says gruffly, tipping back a shot.

“Well, I get off in 10,” Nicks says, pouring him another one. “Why don’t I take you home?” She pushes the glass toward him, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a grin. “For old-time’s sake?”

Jason sucks his teeth as the burn slides down his throat. He nods toward her, reaching for the bottle. “Why not. Today’s a day to celebrate,” he says flatly, pouring two more shots.

She tucks her black hair behind an ear and reaches for the glass, tapping it against the gnarled wood bar top, as per tradition. She raises it, wrist bent slightly. He can just see her eyes over the top of the rim. “To the bastard that terrorized this city. May the Joker burn in hell for all eternity.” She tips it back and he stares into the liquor in his own glass, slowly rotating it against the groove of a Batman insignia etched into the aged wood. A pair of eyes peer up at him, looking out through the clear waters, past the veil separating the dead from the living. They glow a familiar green, a crazed purple. He taps the glass against the bar top, muddying the colorful waters. _They never found his body_, he thinks to himself, drinking down the mocking apparition.

•••

She pulls up in front of his place on the edge of town, a rather uninviting apartment building complete with gothic trimmings.

“Which floor is yours?” she gestures, keys in hand.

“Both.”

Nicks raises an eyebrow at him, “You rented an entire apartment building in Gotham?” She suspends her disbelief; she knew he had money. Where he got it was anyone’s guess. Nicks found it best not to ask many questions of Gothamites. Jason was no exception, no matter how tempting his looks are.

“I own the building,” he says curtly, walking up the iron stairs to the second-floor door. He pushes a key into the heavy lock, and the door swings open. You can see across the flat – mostly bare, but in good taste. He tosses his leather jacket onto the couch, and she slides her fingers around his hard waist. She follows her fingertips, facing him. Wrapping her hand around his firm neck, she pushes him up against the door, teasing his warm lips with her tongue. It’s been a while. And she always looks forward to Jason coming back to her side of Gotham. He leans in, mouth enclosing hers. He presses his nose into her cheek and lifts her up to his chest, gripping the small of her back with a steady hand. Nick’s known him since Ma Gunn first took him in, back when his mom overdosed. But Jason isn’t a little boy, not anymore. Hasn’t been for a long while. She licks around the inside of his mouth, sucking in his sweet warmth. She wraps her legs around him and he presses himself against her stomach. Her heart begins to race, and she breathes a laugh. She’s missed him. She tears his shirt upward as he carries her through the flat. They stumble into his room, large and Victorian, oddly enough. He balances her against the wall and rips open her blouse, buttons clattering to the floor. She kisses his neck as she pulls his shirt up over his head, strong arms in the air. And then they’re wrapped around her. Hot, heavy breaths tickle her nose and she begins unbuckling his pants. He huffs, a slight grin spreading over his face as he unzips her skirt and throws it across the room. He lifts her again, her body pressed to his, and he drops onto the bed with her.

•••

They’re facing each other, the sticky sheet pulled up under her arms. She’s twirling his white strip of hair, admiring it against her almond skin. His head is laid against his bicep, and he studies her face. She grins and bites her lip, singing at him, “Just for old-time’s sake, huh?” Jason is always a good time, but he has his moments. Especially after his disappearance. She looks into his shadowed eyes, filling them with a light Cerulean from memory, searching for the boy she knew. But he hasn’t been the same since he reappeared. She was just so happy to have him back, whenever she could have him, she never asked. And she never will. “That reminds me, I have something for you.” She rolls onto her back and reaches for her purse on the bedside table. Nicks pulls out a clattering pill bottle with a nimble thumb and pointer finger. She unscrews it and tosses a few in her mouth, then holds it out to Jason. “For you, just in case you still need some help sleeping.” He clenches his jaw and takes it, her fingers brushing against his palm. “Good night, Jason,” she smiles softly, rolling away from him. He soon hears her soft breaths, and he sits up on the edge of the bed. The bottle is still open in his hand. He looks over his shoulder at her, watching the rise and fall of chest. He shakes his head and dumps a few in his palm, tossing them into his mouth and swallowing. He screws on the lid and opens the top drawer. He throws the bottle in with the rest of them. And he lies on his back, hands latched under his head. He exhales and closes his eyes.

•••

“_Helllooo, little bird.”_ Jason’s eyes shoot open, and he sits up, leaning back on his hands. A figure stands in the shadows in the corner of the room. “_It’s beeen a while, so I took the liberty of letting myself in.”_ The slender figure walks slowly toward Jason in the darkness, something heavy swaying at his side._ “I hope you don’t minnd,” _he sings. Drips accompany the metal object dangling from his fist.

“You’re not real,” Jason huffs.

“_Ohh, but I am.”_

“Get out,” Jason grits, body tense.

“_But I’m such an imporrtant part of your life! I ended it.”_ And the Joker steps into the moonlight, his purple suit riddled with flecks of red. The crowbar swings and flicks a line of blood up Jason’s chest. “_Don__’t botherr grabbing the gun. I already emptied itt.”_They stare at each other, the Joker cool and composed. A drip of sweat from Jason’s jaw swirls with the drops of blood on his chest. _“Ohh, welll. I’ve already had my fun.”_ Joker steps backward into the shadows._ “Just call on me next timme… or don’t. I’ll always be near.” _His smile gleams in the darkness, and his eyes glow a crazed purple and green. “_She wasn’t nearrlyyy as much fun as you_.” Jason gasps and looks to his left. The bed is filled with black blood, and Nicks is crumpled beneath the stained sheets.

“Gahh,” Jason sits up, panting, and reaches for his gun. He aims at the shadows in the corner of the room, barrel vibrating in his shaking hand. He looks to his left. Nicks’ chest rises with a quiet breath. He pushes her curly hair aside and checks the pulse in her warm neck, holding his breath. His fingers rise with her beating heart. Jason shudders through a long breath and slides from the bed. He walks across the room, gun fixed on the dark corner. He stands there, sweating, waiting. But nothing moves. Nothing emerges. He taps the cool barrel against his burning forehead, teeth gritted, and punches through the wall. He hears sheets shifting behind him, and he exhales, pulling his hand from the splintered wood. He stretches his tight hand against the wall. A drop of blood splatters against his forearm. Jason closes his eyes and works his fingers. _He’s not here_. Coolness begins to drip steadily onto his wrist. _He was never here. _Wetness streams down his arm, collecting at his elbow. _He’s not here_. He drops his hand to his side, the one still gripping the hilt of his gun. Jason runs his bloodied hand through his matted hair as he walks toward the bathroom, the stickiness dripping onto his brow. He turns on the shower and sits beneath the rolling steam, knees pressed to his chest. _The Joker… was never here._ He watches the blood drip and swirl at his feet, dying the water a murky brown.

•••

Dawn begins to shine through the dusty window, lighting the lazily floating specks on fire. Jason shuts off the water and hastily wraps a towel around his waist. He checks his hand, holding it out before his eyes, and it quivers. He balls it into a fist, and leans against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut. He lets his head drop back, exhaling forcefully through his nose. He opens his eyes to see the burning specks whirling through the air above him. Jason sighs, wiping the night from his face with an aching hand, and turns toward the mirror. He grabs his gun off the counter and tosses a cloth lightly against the glass, pushing the condensation outward in small circles. He looks into the streaked reflection and different eyes stare back. A glowing smile waxes beneath two piercing orbs of purple and green. Jason spins around, gun in hand. The barrel’s but two inches from her nose.

“Jason,” she breathes, eyes wide. “It’s me.”

He pants, gun steady, chest heaving. His brows twitch in, and his mouth parts slightly. “I…” his breath catches, and he slowly lowers the muzzle. “I, I’m sorry,” he shudders, dropping his gun to the counter. Jason turns and leans against his elbows, clasping his hands over his head, breaths quick and hoarse. She touches her fingers to his waist and his muscles twitch. She tentatively wraps one arm around his stomach, the other around his shoulder. Nicks lays her forehead gently against his quivering shoulder blade.

“I’ll go make us some coffee.”

“Nicks, I’m —”

“It’s okay, Jason. You’re a good man.” She pauses, and her tongue clicks. “When you’ve been through hell, you carry some stuff back with you… but it doesn’t define you.”

He works his fingers through his wet hair and his knuckles open again. He lets out a breath, and she drops her hand from his shoulder, lifting her head, allowing her fingers to slide down his taut chest.

“What do you think defines a person?” he asks, abruptly, dipping his chin toward where her hand rests on his stomach.

“Their joys, and their pain.”

“And if a person has no joys?”

Nicks brushes her hand up him again and taps his collarbone, giving herself a moment. She sighs quietly. He’d pulled a gun on her before in his sleep. Once. And he’d given her the same look. The same one she saw after his mom died. The same one she saw now. She presses her nose to his back and pecks his damp skin with her lips. She drops her arms, fingers taking in what they can while she has time. And she leans back into the doorway, tucking her curly, black hair behind her ears.

“I have this friend, Kira. She’s the black ops type. She has her baggage, but I think she’d be good for you.”

His hands are still clasped over his head, his fingers pushing around the wet on his knuckles. A few drops drip into his hair, and he glances in the mirror. The afterimage of those eyes is beginning to fade from view. The smile lingers a bit longer, and Jason notices that his strip of bleached hair is stained with the blood from his hand. He starts to shift his gaze toward Nicks when he swears he sees the smile widen.

“I want you to be happy, Jason. I want you to find joy. And, well, if it doesn’t work out… I’ll always be near.”


End file.
